


The Darkness Above

by lirin



Category: The Scarlet Pimpernel - Baroness Orczy
Genre: F/M, ToT: Monster Mash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 07:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12476896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirin/pseuds/lirin
Summary: Ever since the former Lady Blakeney had succumbed, the lurker had grown more and more hungry.





	The Darkness Above

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lynndyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynndyre/gifts).



Every inch of Blakeney Manor had been touched by the hands of fine craftsmen. The floors were made of polished wood, brought from leagues away. The walls were hung with portraits painted by artists who had painted kings and queens, and with tapestries that were centuries old. The ceiling’s tiles had been individually painted in Holland and brought to England by ship. Harmoniously carved chapiters headed the columns that graced the larger rooms. A student of art might have spent all day observing. Even the amateur connoisseur would have found much to admire. Yet none of these were present in Blakeney Manor, and thus evil was allowed to linger.

It was rare that the manor house had more than servants present these days. Its new lord had been long abroad, and his parents before their passing had frequently been away as well, seeking respite for Lady Blakeney’s poor health. There were no grand parties or lively galas any more, and none of the servants lingered nor looked up. Nobody ever had cause to look at the ceiling and see what lurked there.

And thus, the lurker had free reign of the manor, just as it had ever had. Spreading itself across the ballroom ceiling in an oily cloud of darkness, it slid from one column to the next. In an overabundance of caution, it coiled tightly into itself whenever a servant walked through the room, but they were all fixed on their duties. Behind the cloud, the Delftware tiles grew filmy and gray, but the darkness paid it no notice and nobody else thought to observe.

The darkness had been frequently hungry in the years that the Blakeneys had been abroad, and it had grown wan indeed in the decade since Lady Blakeney had finally succumbed. At its prime, it could have stretched across the entire ballroom; now it was not much larger than the harpsichord in the corner. Experimentally, it creeped down the wall and wrapped itself around the instrument, but there was nothing for it to feed on there, in the ghosts of notes sounded and parties accompanied.

Rising again to the ceiling, it thinned down until it quite resembled a rope, and slipped through a hole in the ceiling, where one of the tiles had cracked off. Though the house might not be in disrepair quite yet, its lord would have much repair to do if he now intended to make his home here. The anticipation of this was no cause for worry to the darkness. If it had any emotion at all, it was hope. This house was full of hiding places, enough to escape an army of craftsmen; and more people in the house meant more opportunities for sustenance.

Already, the new Lady Blakeney had moved in, along with an army of servants. The lady was very different than the last, but equally appealing. She was too joyful now, flush with happiness over her recent marriage, to provide effective nourishment; but these things could change. The darkness slid through the door hinges and coiled itself behind a screen in the lady’s dressing room. She was there, chattering to one of her ladies-in-waiting. She smelled of sunshine and open breezes. The darkness cringed, creeping closer to the floor.

There was a tap at the door, and the lord of the house poked his head in. The lady-in-waiting giggled at such effrontery, and Lady Blakeney stepped modestly behind one of the screens, though she was fully dressed in a chemise á la Reine. Her eyes were on her husband, and she caught no glimpse of the darkness, whisking itself across the floor next to her to tuck itself into a hatbox that it was not quite small enough for.

“Oh, Percy!” Lady Blakeney cried.

“I was just gettin’ so demmed impatient, m’dear,” her husband replied. He stepped further into the room, and Lady Blakeney stepped out from the screen to allow him to kiss her hand—then her wrist, her forearm, her shoulder. The lady-in-waiting giggled again, and scurried out of the room. Taking no notice of her absence, Blakeney trailed kisses along his wife’s throat. His strong fingers sought her waist beneath the layers of muslin. “Although come to think of it, it wouldn’t be fashionable to be on time to Wallescourt’s party, now would it?”

The darkness flinched in hunger. It did not wish to see others sated when it could not be. Unnoticed by either of the room’s other occupants, it slid across the floor and made its way back to the ballroom ceiling. 

The greasy blue tiles made it feel at home, in this place where it was all alone. Everyone was much too happy, but then that was always the way with newlyweds. It would not last. And later, when those two were no longer always together, then there would be time to feed. Perhaps there would even be despair, that tastiest of morsels; and madness would come again to Blakeney Manor.


End file.
